Nightfall
by The Bluefire Phoenix
Summary: Just when I thought I had seen it all. Hotel Moscow is gearing up and the sound of gunfire will fill the sky. But Hell hasn't come for Roanapur. No, Nightfall is coming to Gotham. I've been given the most important task of catching the city's local guardian, the Batman.
1. Chapter 1

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

An _Operation Dusk Hour_ Tale...

_Nightfall_

Chapter I: Identity Crisis

My name…

My name is Rock. Once upon a time I was just your run-of-the-mill salaryman living in Tokyo. Now I'm a modern day pirate of the South China Sea.

I sail out of the city of Roanapur in Thailand. It was a city of sin and depravity. A city ruled by the whims of the corrupt and the mad. The story of my rebirth in this city of darkness is long. And bloody. In that time I've made some friends, gained a few enemies, and some I'm not sure about.

Chief among those in-betweeners is the leader of the local Russian Mafia, Balalaika. Not ideal by any stretch of the imagination.

Hence my apprehension over a simple invitation to her private office. At nine o'clock at night. Alone. But disregarding her call would have been far worse.

I sat in her office. It was choked in a permanent haze of cigar smoke. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows over everything.

This was the throne room where Balalaika ruthlessly past judgment on any and all fools who dared to cross her or her organization.

The room itself was rather unremarkable, just a few trappings of home for its primary occupant. I had seen similar décor before, having dealt with many foreigner officials operating in Japan. Actually at a quick glance the office was pretty normal.

But there was something wrong with this room. It was a gnawing feeling that nagged at your subconscious to be put into words. Such a feeling had merit as a closer inspection of the office revealed various bullet holes and other awkward chips in the furniture. Some sections of the green carpet seemed unnaturally faded in places.

Indeed this place was just the last stop on many people's long path to hell.

Yet all these echoes of death didn't faze me in the slightest.

Ever since I arrived in the city, everything that you would associate with a functional member of society slowly slipped away. I would never say I was crazy. But the city gets you after a while. I just stopped caring on some level. My friends and crewmates were all I had left.

I heard the door open. The ominous echo of heels clicking against the floor erupted behind me. A cold hand gently grabbed the back of my head. I could feel nails dig into my scalp.

"Glad you could make it, Rock," a familiar, cold-as-death voice said behind me. I felt a chilling breeze as I saw a familiar trench coat in the corner of my eyes.

"Of course, Ms. Balalaika. I'm not sure what Hotel Moscow could want from me, but I am happy to help," I calmly said. My heart started to pound into overdrive as she sat down. The blonde elegantly brushed her thick hair out of the way. She smiled. Probably amused at my answer.

Balalaika held up an English language newspaper. "Do you keep up with American news?" She asked. I nervously shook my head.

"Well I wasn't expecting you to," she said as she tossed the paper to me. My eyes locked on to the headline.

"Clown's Night of Terror Ends," I accidentally read aloud. I started to read the article. None of it made any sense. The tale of the "Batman," the tragedy of some Harvey Dent, the horrors of the so-called "Joker," those were the front page stories of the Gotham Gazette. By all accounts it was a reputable newspaper. But this seemed the heights of childish fantasy after reading _The Anarchist's Cookbook_ and the collected works of Nietzsche.

Then again, I've been in a battle with Neo-Nazis, barely escaped a Terminator maid, mentally scarred by killer twin children, chased across town by a ragtag group of assassins, and live with a psychotic woman who wears hardly anything into battle. Still, the idea of a vigilante dressed as a bat fighting a terrorist clown gave me pause. I can't say whether that's funny or sad.

I set the paper down. "I am afraid that I'm confused at what this has to do with me," I said with all the politeness I could muster.

"Our operation in the city of Gotham has been compromised. The bosses back home are getting worried that the local police are getting too bold. We've been dispatched to clean up and rebuild."

"But what does this have to do with me? You hardly need a translator in America."

Balalaika smiled. The presence of death that hung in background rushed forward. I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise up in terror. The woman leaned in over her desk.

"No I want you to figure out who this 'Batman' is, and I want you to bring me his head," she menacingly purred.

If I hadn't used the restroom before coming, I think any respect the woman had for me would have been dripping down my legs. I straightened up in my seat.

A cruel smile formed on Balalaika's face. "Metaphorically speaking of course. But I do want you to set a trap to catch him," she added.

"What?" I asked, praying she didn't interpret that as an insult.

"My sources say that this 'Batman' has vanished from the public eye as of late. I have no doubt that he will return once news of our activities breaks, so you will devise a plan to catch him in an effort to keep him contained," the woman clarified. I think I blinked.

Did she just ask me to catch an arguably insane vigilante? Just when I thought I had seen it all.

"I'd be glad to assist you in anyway. But I really don't know how much I'll be able to help," I said.

"Don't worry, I'll provide you with everything you'll need and you will be well compensated for your time. You have two weeks before we set sail."

Those words followed me all the way back to the office. Even the next day they echoed in my head as Balalaika's troops brought box after box of reports, testimony, and articles related to my newest job.

My walls still had the faint outlines of the work I did for the Lovelace family a few months ago. Hopefully they wouldn't interfere. I had replaced my map of Roanapur with that of Gotham.

With that up, it was time to start. From the very beginning.

Locations, routes, and people: everything had to be accounted for. Something felt wrong as I tracked the career of the Batman. My mind began to close off most of the world. My hands began to once again mark my walls with pen. Webs of connections, notes, and hypothesizes began to fill up the space.

The tale was starting to form from the papers. A questioned emerged as each layer was placed, a single, irritating question. Balalaika would bring more files as I asked for them all in the hope of the next batch having what I need. Still I couldn't find the link. Who was the Batman?

Then it hit me!

I pulled out the paper that detailed the gas attack that the Batman stopped. Earlier that night, Wayne Manor had been burned down. I was familiar enough with Wayne Enterprises. My old company did some business with them on occasion. The paper said that Mr. Wayne was drunk and burned down the house. Wayne had a reputation for being a party boy sure, but for someone who seemed to pride himself on public appearance, that seemed odd.

Then I found an article from a couple of years later that detailed how the Batman quickly appeared at Bruce Wayne's apartment when the Joker showed up to ruin a party. The Batman risked his life to save assistant DA Rachel Dawes. This originally led some people to believe that Batman might be Harvey Dent, Dawes' boyfriend at the time, describing the hero's attempt to save her as fueled beyond the motivation he had displayed in the past.

This was later disproven after Dent claimed to be the Batman and was saved from assassination by the real Batman. Sighted in attendance at Dent's historic press conference was a silent Bruce Wayne, barely noticeable in the picture.

After Dent and Dawes were kidnapped by the Joker, the Batman specifically went after Dawes over Dent. I thought that it was a dead end. After all, the Joker had played reverse psychology and it was plausible that the Batman knew ahead of time.

But, the reports and interviews with those present when he made the call claimed that Batman reacted _emotionally_ and specifically used Dawes' first name. Quick, emotional decisions went against the Batman's entire MO, especially when he was going on the word of a madman.

So assuming that the Batman believed he was going after Dawes, the next question was: why would he risk the city's future over an arguably expendable civil servant? Who would do that? Perhaps a friend from childhood and possible former lover named Bruce Wayne?

Yes, everything was starting to come together. The only hang up was the murder spree attributed to the Batman. After two years with a no killing policy, why change? It was wrong unless—

—He didn't want to be Batman anymore! He effectively quit by taking the fall for the three murders. The death of Rachel Dawes was enough to send Batman into seclusion and the only person other than Dent with strong enough emotional connections to be affected was Bruce Wayne.

His name appeared at or could be traced back to every defining moment in the history of the Batman. Was Wayne connected to the caped crusader? I shifted focus and started looking into his life in detail.

His parents killed in front of him as a child. Motive.

He inherits a vast fortune and a company that used to be in the arms trade. Equipment.

Drops out of Oxford and disappears from public view. Training?

Returns a few years later followed a few weeks later by the first sighting of the Batman. Coincidence?

Stops man from revealing Batman's true identity. Accident?

Wayne.

Wayne.

Bruce Wayne.

Who are you, really? Where did you go? What did you learn?

Are these all _just_ coincidences? No, there had to be something more to it than that. It connected too well.

A knock on my door snapped me out of my work. Oh god how long had I been doing this? My walls were covered in hundreds of scribbles and diagrams. The map of Gotham looked like a battle strategy layout that the generals always have in the movies. Empty Styrofoam cups littered my floor.

Revy entered with her usual blasé swagger. She looked around my room and let out a sharp whistle.

"The hell have you been doing Rock? You've locked yourself in here for four goddamn days," she growled.

My lips twitched into a smile. "I have him Revy. I have the mother fucking Batman!" I shouted. I started to chuckle.

My right fist slammed into my left palm. This was it! I had him!

But would Balalaika believe me? Would _anyone_ believe me?

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Hello and look at that! For anyone new to me or my work, let's say this story has been a long time coming. To anyone who has been anticipating this, well today is your day.

Sorry if that noir vibe is bothering you. It just sort of turned out that way. I'm not used to writing characters like these in the first person. So there may be a few chapters of adjusting to go through. We'll see.

I do think that Rock could figure out Batman's identity. Especially in the heavily grounded Nolanverse. While I would not refute a comment about the speed of Rock's discovery, I need to get the plot moving too.

The goal of _Operation Dusk_ _Hour _can be best described with a horribly mangled Shakespeare quote, "I come to bury Batman, not to praise him." Don't get me wrong, I love _The Dark Knight_. But let's be honest. Batman has become so overplayed in recent years. I even question Deathbattles' recent episode and I usually agree with those guys (Yes Superman would beat Goku, it is sad but true my friends). So I'm going to use this project to examine Batman, particularly Nolan's interpretation, and see if there is anything left of the _man_.

And yes, Two Hands vs. the Caped Crusader will happen. Just because I want to look at something seriously, doesn't mean we can't have fun. I'm sure it will be more so than the upcoming movie that I refuse to name.

So what did you think? Anything you'd like to see or believe should happen? Leave a review or send me a message.

Until next time, try the Spirit Bomb {it always works!}


	2. Chapter 2

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter II: Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Fucking hell. I shouldn't have left Rock alone for so long. His room was now filled to the brim with newspapers, police reports, and notes. Disposable coffee cups, scrap paper, and food wrappers littered the floor. It all created a rank smell. I resisted the urge to cover my nose.

His walls were not much better. They were covered in layers of his fine, precise handwriting. I couldn't make heads or tails of the writing. But one thing written near the top was readable, the phrase: It's Wayne.

There was a map of Gotham City on the wall as well. It looked like he tried to play some insanely complicated game multiple times without resetting the board. What the hell did Sis need Rock to do in Gotham?

Rock himself was a fucking mess. His shirt was nearly completely unbuttoned and entirely untucked. Not a single strand of hair was kept in check. Thick rings had formed under his manic eyes. A ten o'clock shadow had grown on his face.

His lips formed vicious smile. I had seen it once before when he hunted that psycho-maid a few months ago. This should be good.

"I have him Revy. I have the mother fucking Batman!" He shouted. He balled his fist into his palm. I started to laugh. I don't know why but that statement cracked me up.

"It sounds like Sis set you up for a lark," I said between heaves for air. Rock frowned. He went to a stack and pulled something out of it.

He tossed me a newspaper. I looked through it. Damn, when was the last time I read an American newspaper? But this was a fake. There was no way in hell it was a real.

I shook my head and put the paper down. Rock was shaking pretty bad.

"No Revy. It's all true and I know who he is!" he exclaimed. Oh boy, this was going to be good. I looked up at the name on the wall.

"So I take it that John Wayne's the Batman?" I sarcastically asked.

"No, _Bruce_ Wayne," Rock corrected with absolute seriousness.

I had to sit down on a vacant spot on his bed. I placed my head my hands and started to laugh. After what? Two years, he finally learned to tell a joke.

Rock stoically took my amusement. I looked up at him. "Oh ho, great one Rock, real fucking great. Now tell me the one where Lex Luthor is Santa Claus," I requested.

It took everything I had to get it together. I took a deep breath. Rock was still standing there with his arms crossed. "You're serious? Bruce Wayne, the ultimate playboy is…a masked vigilante with a fucking rodent fetish?" I had to ask.

"Yes. I've calculated it out. Bruce Wayne is the most likely candidate to be the Batman," Rock said.

"Most likely?" I asked.

"The fact that his name can be traced back to Batman's greatest exploits is too convenient. Even if Wayne isn't the Batman, he is certainly the key to who the Batman really is," Rock explained.

I sighed. "Well Sis is the one who has to buy it. I hope you have a good case."

Little did I know, I'd have to eat those words that night. I accompanied Rock to his presentation. Worse case scenario we'd have to blast our way out of the office. Fortunately the Ruskies didn't seem to care that I brought my babies with me: two Stainless Steel Beretta 92FS's with the combat MOD barrel. My Sword Cutlass Specials.

Rock took the stage before Sis and her top officers. I had never seen him so animate. He was dead set on his assessment.

As he went on I couldn't help but think he may be right. Maybe Bruce Wayne was Batman. Rock went over every detail of every incident where the Batman was reported. Fighting style, take downs, equipment; Rock had it all. My foot started anxiously bounce with every passing second.

Sis must have noticed because she made Rock pause his presentation to invite me along. My blood really started boiling. I certainly wasn't going to turn down a chance to fight the Batman. And if it was true about Wayne then all the better.

For us street urchin punks growing up, Bruce Wayne was a topic of desire. The billionaire orphan, to us it was like a fairy tale that we could only dream of. But like all dreams, I realized that it was nothing but ashes blowing in the breeze. Now all I felt towards Wayne was disgust.

Sis seemed impressed with Rock's report. She left it mostly to her men to formulate the final plan. Rock still had to come in case he was wrong. But they promised that they wouldn't kill him over it.

We were ready to head out when Sis called for Rock to stay a minute more. I waited in the doorway. The haze that permeated the room closed in with each step Rock took. I felt my hands creep towards my Cutlasses. Last time I saw those two that close, it didn't go well. We somehow lived on Rock's stupidity.

Sis looked more serious than usual. Her scar seemed grow a bit. "I don't want your 'hobby' getting in my way again, Rock," she menacingly purred. I inadvertently tensed up. Please don't fuck up now, Rock.

"It won't, ma'am," he replied with a bow. We walked out of the office into the main hall.

I looked over at Rock. "This isn't like you," I noted. Rock nodded in agreement.

"Ever since I've arrived here, all I've done is lose," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"Tough shit, but not everybody who comes here is as lucky as you. If I were you, I'd sit back and watch the fireworks you just lit under Gotham with a nice glass of whisky like some cheesy Bond villain," I retorted. Rock stopped and grabbed me. We awkwardly locked eyes.

"I need this Revy. I need to win, to show—to show _these_ people that I can do something more than accidentally dodge bullets," he said. I shook my head.

"You never wanted their approval before. Why start now?" I asked. I could see something deep in Rock's eyes. Had Roanapur finally beat him? Rock bit his lips and released me. I watched as he walked away.

No, it wasn't defeat in his eyes, it was a burning obsession. I can't say how many times I had seen such a look before, but they all ended in tragedy.

But he wasn't going to lose. Not this time. I couldn't help but smirk as I followed Rock out. This was going to be good. And I had front row seats to it all.

All the while home I took a few glances at Rock. He either didn't notice or didn't care because he just stared out into the city. But I didn't have time to dwell because I had to pack!

I was going home, sort of. Truthfully, I had never been to Gotham. Grant it I barely got out of New York. But even in the shithole I came from Gotham had a reputation for being worse. Sure the gangbangers in the Big Apple were cruel and assholes. But the rumor mill made them look like saints compared to the happenings in Gotham. At least in New York, you knew the crooks were on the street. In Gotham they may very well be on the voting ballot.

I leaned on the railing outside the office with a fresh cigarette. My eyes drifted over the bay. It was a beautiful sight. The water shimmered in the light of the city. Out in the distance I heard sirens and gunfire.

Benny stepped out of the office to join me. He lit up a cigarette. "Rock looks like he's about to burst," he commented before placing his smoke in his mouth. He gently griped the wrought iron rail.

"He's out to win it all," I bluntly stated. I took a heavy drag from my light.

Benny shrugged and turned his head to me. His eyes were covered by the moon's reflection in his glasses. Golden looks fell in a variety of directions. "The problem with winning it all is that we often forget what we will lose in the process," he commented. I let out an irritated groan. "I'm just saying to keep Rock in check. Remind him that he's only human."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: So Revy. Doing everything she can do while she can't shoot and kill: comment on how Rock is doing, get the invite so we can have our version of Deathbattle, and get some fortune cookie stuff from Benny. A tad uninspired perhaps. However I wanted one more chapter in Roanapur before going to Gotham. Wait Lex Luthor?

Revy is going to have to carry a lot the load when it comes to snark and action. Mostly because the way my preliminary work is going, Rock and Bat chapters are going to lean on the philosophical side of things. That may change of course.

Surprisingly Revy wasn't the reason this is a _Black Lagoon_ crossover rather than say a _Death Note_ crossover. No it was in fact Rock. I feel he is a good foil to Nolan's Batman. Sure Light's a genius and can go toe to toe with the world's finest, but this project would just turn into a retread of the first (and best) part of _Death Note_. Rock provides the challenge and the supporting cast to make a foe easily believable in the Nolanverse.

So who is going to win? Who might die? Leave a review and tell me. I need to know!

Wait I'm the author, shouldn't I already know this shit?

Until next time, I don't want the damn strawberry {And I'm not Kira, stop asking}


	3. Chapter 3

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter III: Fallen Heroes

"…only human after all, Master Bruce," Alfred Pennyworth said from somewhere beyond the dark veil that surrounded me. I felt the fog in my head swirl around.

The cold floor materialized below me. My head rested against the hard tile. I opened my eyes to see the textured ceiling of the west wing gallery of Wayne Manor.

Alfred was leaning over me with his hand extended. I grabbed it and he helped me up. A lightning strike of pain hit my left knee. I had to let out a groan.

"Maybe you should start smaller sir," Alfred suggested. I sighed. The past week had been nothing but trouble.

I finally got the heart to try walking unaided. Yet nothing worked. I couldn't keep enough pressure on my leg to stand. A simple stroll from one side of the room to the other had become an excise in futility.

The doctors offered to repair the knee. But after a closer inspection, they found it inoperable. That was that. I was reduced to using a cane at age thirty.

There was a time that this wouldn't stop me. I was once indomitable. I was the Batman.

Now I was a feeble wreck, incapable of walking without assistance. Everything I ever wanted had been taken away with nothing more than some gasoline and a bomb. This was the price of being a hero.

Alfred handed me my cane. I began to head for the dining room. "You shouldn't be so dour, Master Bruce. Look what you've done for the city," he tried to reassure. I kept quiet, the echo of my cane hitting the floor my only response. The man grabbed my shoulder.

"It may not be my place to comment sir, but you need to move on. From Batman, from Ms. Dawes, maybe even from Gotham," he said. My head lowered.

"Gotham still needs a protector," I halfheartedly muttered. I tried to break away, but Alfred's grip held strong.

"Gotham doesn't need Batman anymore. Once the Dent Act passes next week, the police will be able to clean up the city in ways he never could."

No response came to me. He was right that the people didn't need Batman. He was a murderer who betrayed his morals as far as they knew. I forced myself out of Alfred's grip.

"And even if the city did need Batman again, what could you do Master Wayne?" Alfred added.

Nothing. There was nothing left. My body was broken. But maybe I had options!

I started to hobble to my study. My computer was waiting for. I logged on and began researching. Page after page, article after article passed by.

An idea planted deep in my mind. It grew and grew. Before long I had a blue print.

My body relaxed after I hit the save button. I transferred the file over to a flash drive. I knew that Gotham was once in good hands.

Something in the room caught my eye as I leaned forward in my chair. It was a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water. I unplugged the drive. "Alfred," I called out as I grabbed the sandwich.

"Yes Master Wayne," he said. He appeared out of nowhere it seemed. I guess he _had_ learned a thing or two over the years.

"I need to see Mr. Fox."

Thus far Lucius Fox had turned out to be a solid ally. His return to Wayne Enterprises was fortunate. He assisted me with my various extreme, sometimes downright bizarre requests when I was a younger man so to speak.

Alfred pulled up the Rolls Royce to the front of my company's headquarters. He got the door for me and I got out the best I could. I marched into the office with my head held high.

The receptionist let me through. Lucius' office was near the top and the elevator ride was long. Many who came aboard my car gave me plenty of distance. Some even got off early.

I rolled my eyes. As long as they worked hard and didn't connect the dots they were safe from my wrath. Honestly I didn't care that much anymore.

The elevator stopped at Lucius' floor. It was a pretty minimalist space. A few decorative art pieces sat near white walls. I walked up to his office, gently knocking on the door.

Lucius looked up from his work and smiled. "Ah Mr. Wayne, it's been a while," he greeted. He noticed my cane. "I take it you aren't here for some crazy request."

I shook my head. I offered him my flash drive. Lucius plugged it in to his computer. He opened the file. His eyebrow rose up with surprise.

"Can you do it?" I asked. Fox nodded.

"It will take a while but this is quite doable," he said. He stood up and walked over to me.

Smoke suddenly started to rise a few miles outside his window just as we locked hands. Fox turned on the television. A brunette anchorwoman was sitting at the main desk of GNN.

"Initial reports indicate that it was an explosion that came from to the apartment of city councilwoman Cynthia Redding. We are still waiting for Freddy Garcia to arrive. Stay tuned for further updates," she said.

Fox frowned. "I think I'll get to work on this now, if you don't mind," he said. He released my hand then walked off probably heading to the R-and-D department. My gaze was stuck on the pyre rising over the skyline.

We both knew this was wrong. Cynthia Redding was new to the city board, having been elected in the wake of the Joker's attack. She was a prominent member of the local business community before. Most of her work was dedicated to creating jobs and lowering unemployment. Her campaign revolved around carrying on the legacy of Harvey Dent.

As such she was the largest proponent of the Dent Act. The bill would still have life even without her. But her death just felt suspicious and could shake the will of other supporters. Only I could get to the bottom of this _crime_.

This was my city. This was my Gotham. I wasn't about to watch it slip back into the hands of criminals.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: This chapter is criminally short, I know. But this is a Bruce Wayne chapter rather than an actual Batman chapter. Plus do you really want me to write the angst of a retired Bruce Wayne? Because I can copy-n-paste: "My Parents and Love Interest are dead. The Villain won. I am useless now," a few hundred times mixed with lyrics from some emo bands if you'd like. Sorry but the plot needs to start revving up now and Bruce Wayne is boring.

I liked _The Dark Knight Rises_. It's got nothing on its predecessor and it drags from time to time, but I liked it. However it bothered me a bit that Bruce Wayne didn't have a plan in place to immediately become Batman again. Yeah he kept his stuff, but you really can't just dump that kind of hardware. It sounds hypocritical because I groan at the Batman has a pre-made plan for everything cliché. But that is a believable plan compared to some of the things he has in place.

Next time we are back with Rock. Will he be able to catch the Bat? Will Revy kick ass? Will I stop bitching about Batman?

Possibly. Definitely. No.

Until next time, _Crawling in my skin, these wounds—_ {Does it look like 2001 to you?}


	4. Chapter 4

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter IV: No Man's Land

Gotham City. It wasn't as impressive as I was led to believe. The place still had an atmosphere. The dull grey skyscrapers rose out of the ground like spires of despair. All of the various bridges seemed ward off the outside world. Even the clouds oppressively loomed over the city.

I just felt like I had seen it all before. Wait was I…homesick?

Two years ago, I'd have scoffed at the idea of Roanapur even being considered as my home. It was filthy. Every other person had the skill to kill you just for looking at them funny. The merchants only ripped you off.

Yet there I was thousands of miles away from that hellhole and I was missing it. Maybe I was glad deep down that my plan to bring the city into the world's view failed.

But now wasn't the time for that. I had to stay focused on the City of Rags and Riches, not Hell's Private Dominion. The salty sea air started to mix of the big city. Seagulls flew overhead and landed on the hanger for a moment. The large tanker began to maneuver into dock.

My first trip to America and I was being smuggled in by the Russian mob. For some reason it felt more boring than it sound. When you've been a smuggler, I guess some of the thrill just goes away.

Balalaika's ship docked on the south side of the city. The crew quickly disembarked. A series of cars were waiting. Groups of two or three would get into a car and it would drive off, disbursing into the city. A few minutes later the process repeated.

Some of the crew unloaded several crates from the ship's hold. Some contained weapons of war to be used against those that opposed the will of the mob. Others probably had drugs and pirated media for illicit disruption to remind the people on the street that the mob was still very much alive.

Just another day for Hotel Moscow.

Revy and I stepped onto the dock. I was loaded down with our suitcases. Sure it was just two bags, but I'm sure she might have left it on the ship by accident. She stretched her arms with a big yawn.

A small man in a suit and trench coat was waiting for us at the dock. He and Balalaika started to chat in Russian. They walked over to a waiting limo. She motioned for me and Revy to join them. The driver appeared and took our bags, placing them in the trunk.

We entered the car and sat across from Balalaika and the man. I got a better look at him. He had a thick handlebar mustache and a shaved head. His eyes were hidden under dark sunglasses. Dark tattoos peaked out from under his suit.

I felt his blue eyes dig into my skin. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Even Revy tried to give him some space.

"Rock, Revy, this is Mikhail. He'll be the new boss once we're done here," Balalaika introduced us. I instinctively offered my hand. Mikhail didn't seem impressed with my gesture.

"I understand that you like that shithole backwater you call a city, but you didn't need to bring some natives with you," he spat. As much as I wanted to correct him and berate him over the insult, I was rather content with leaving my head intact. Revy rolled her eyes.

"Now, now Mikhail. Rock is Japanese. Please don't antagonize him, he's valuable," Balalaika condescendingly pointed. She crossed her legs.

Mikhail leaned back in his seat. "How valuable could _he_ be?" he mocked.

"Because Rock is the man who is going to catch the Batman," Balalaika explained. Mikhail cocked his head back and laughed. It sent a shiver down my back.

"_He's_ going to catch the Batman? Even if the bastard were still around, what makes you so sure this one could even do it?" Mikhail asked.

Balalaika smirked and shook her head. "I trust Rock _can_ do it. Why don't I let him go over part of the plan?" she suggested. I quickly straightened up. The Russian woman lit up a cigar and nodded.

I adjusted my collar. My breath seemed to disappear. "Eh-hem," I cleared my throat.

"First off we need to threaten the Dent Act," I started. An evil grin curled onto Mikhail's face. That must have made his day. "That should catch his attention and bring him out of his retirement."

"Next we need to go after something more personal," I continued. Mikhail's eyebrow rose.

"Are you implying you know the identity of the Batman?" he asked. I felt my heart freeze up and I turned to Balalaika. She shook her head.

"Rock is not at liberty to discuss that at the moment," she said. Mikhail frowned a bit. Balalaika nodded for me to go on.

"Once we have secured the target, Batman _will_ come after us, I guarantee it," I said. Mikhail's brow bristled. He slammed his fist against the door.

"Are you stupid or something? Having the Batman after you is never a good thing!" Mikhail growled.

I nodded my head. He was right. The Batman struck fear in hearts of all of Gotham's criminals. Not hard I'd imagine with a freaking tank, bulletproof armor, and a terrifying mask. After all he mostly dealt with street toughs who probably dropped out of high school and were about as disciplined as the combats of a middle school food fight. Not men made of the sternest stuff.

But Balalaika brought a different breed to the battle. Her men were soldier of the highest caliber, forged in the sands of Afghanistan. They hadn't come to Gotham to be chased off by some nut in a bat suit.

Even so the Batman added too many variables to assume anything. You shouldn't discount a man who has the kind arsenal Batman had shown. "That's why we need to bait him into playing our game," I explained. Balalaika sent me a cold glare. I nodded. "And that's all I can say for now."

Mikhail nodded. "The Dent Act will be voted on next week, and it looks like it will pass without a fight," he pointed out. Balalaika pulled out a black book from her coat.

"I took the liberty of having your books examined. Set up a meeting with Raymond Alesci," Balalaika said. Marco twitched.

"You want me to just get you a meeting with Alesci? He's the city's most powerful union boss. He—"

Balalaika raised her hand. A chill rushed through the cabin. Even Revy perked up. "Do not test me Mikhail Moscow sent _me _to restore our presence in Gotham. If I tell them you are being uncooperative, they will send you straight to Vasili in Los Angeles," she bluntly threatened. Mikhail slunk back in his seat. His face was drained of color.

I saw our hotel come up. Thank god. The driver stopped at the building's front door. He let Ms. Balalaika, Revy, and me out before getting our bags. Balalaika leaned in before the driver shut the door. "I want results, Mikhail. I want to meet him at this location at the prescribed time," she calmly added. She slipped him a piece of paper.

She turned around and we entered the hotel. It belonged to a chain owned by a shell company controlled by the Russian Mob. I don't know what I was expecting.

But a well decorated hotel wasn't it. The place was probably the cleanest building I had been in since Tokyo. Even the staff was well dressed. That's mob money I guess.

Balalaika strode to the front desk. The man at the station recognized her and immediately brought out two keys. He handed them two the woman.

The three of us used the elevator to get to the top floor. Balalaika gave me the key to the room Revy and I shared.

Revy didn't have any qualms with the boarding situation. I guess I was too. Then again Revy's understanding of modesty was that it was something for other people.

That night the two of us were out on the balcony for a smoke. I couldn't help but notice how at ease Revy was. She was never this relaxed in Tokyo even though the jobs were similar enough. Hell she never looked that relaxed in Roanapur.

Her eyes had dulled over. The haze of her cigarette shrouded her face. Was she thinking of home? Preparing for the fight to come? Or perhaps she just zoned out to the sound of traffic?

I looked out over the city. Soon it would be dragged down back to where it was just a couple of years ago. All on the word of the woman next door.

My thoughts tried to drift off like Revy's. But every time I tried, the Batman pulled me back into focus. I didn't have anything against Wayne or Batman. In fact I'd applaud him if the circumstances were different.

But this was just business. I know the phrase was often the ironic last words of many characters. For me though, they were true. I was employed to trap him.

Yet the deeper I involved myself the more I cared less about the paycheck. I wanted to catch the Batman if only to say I did. Whether they called me a hero or villain didn't matter. I would have done something others deemed impossible.

My plan was set. Balalaika had made the necessary preparations. Revy was ready to do her part. All that was left was to bring the Batman into the game.

And the next morning, the first domino was ready to fall.

Mikhail arrived for breakfast. He and Balalaika quietly chatted in Russian. Revy and I enjoyed some eggs. We quietly made our way to the limo afterward.

We were driven deep into the city, arriving in the back of an apartment building. Some of Balalaika's men were waiting with the door open.

The room we ended up in had a good view of the surrounding buildings. There was a small telescope aimed down at the building across the street. I looked down the scope.

In the apartment it was aimed at was a woman tied to a chair. She was Cynthia Redding, the Dent Act's most vocal supporter. I knew that even if I wasn't going after Batman, Balalaika wouldn't have let her live. Her fate was sealed before we even set foot on shore. But her life still had some value. Her death had even more.

Balalaika took a seat on the large chair in the corner of the room. Mikhail sat on the nearby couch. He looked eager. Revy and I ended up on the other side of Balalaika.

It looked like a scene out straight out of _The Godfather_ once Alesci came in. All it needed was an Italian string instrumental. Alesci was a plump Italian man, with frazzled black hair. Sweat poured from his brow. Balalaika offered him a seat with the wave of her hand.

"You Ruskies have some guts. Once the Dent Act passes, you'll all be behind bars," he spat. Balalaika looked almost amused by his statement, her eyebrow cocking somewhat.

"Brave words, Mr. Alesci," she said.

"Yeah well, I don't have to be afraid of you anymore," Alesci shot back. The blonde woman's eyes rolled. I can imagine she get that a lot.

"And yet here you are, sitting there like a trained dog," Balalaika bluntly retorted.

"I'm just here to say fuck off and don't bother me no more," he said. He was about to stand up when Balalaika pulled out her black book.

"Unfortunately for you Mr. Alesci, Hotel Moscow doesn't just 'fuck off.' I'm sure you wouldn't want us to publish all these records we have on you," she menacingly purred. Even my spine went numb to the words. Balalaika opened the book. She flipped to a certain page and started to run her finger down it.

"I mean just look at all these lovely girls you doted on night after night. Does your wife know about them? Oh and look at this, you owe some of our lenders quite a bit of gambling money it seems. I guess union dues just aren't what they used to be," she mockingly added. Alesci started to tremble. He turned to Mikhail.

"You said there wouldn't be any evidence!" he shouted at the man. Mikhail shook his head.

"I only said the police wouldn't find any evidence," he answered.

Alesci clenched his fist. His body trembled. He then started to laugh. "You honestly think you can threaten me? You can't touch me. I run a third of this city," he arrogantly declared.

Balalaika chuckled. She pointed to the telescope. "That's apparently what our friend across the street said," she stated. Alesci looked through the telescope and frowned.

"Oh my god," he whispered.

"Yes, Ms. Redding refused to cooperate and now she must be disposed of," Balalaika said. She pulled out a detonator from her coat. Her thumb lazily pushed the button. Cynthia Redding's apartment ruptured in a plume of smoke and fire. Alesci collapsed back into his chair.

I watched the flames consume Cynthia Redding. A year ago I would have tried to talk Balalaika out of this course of action. But today I only felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. The game was on and there was no going back. A weary smile fell across my face.

"What do you want from me?" Alesci finally choked out.

"You will publicly withdraw your support for the Dent Act and then go on a two week vacation far from Gotham, can you do that?" Balalaika delivered her ultimatum. Alesci nodded and almost crawled out of the room, followed a few minutes later by Mikhail and Balalaika.

"Rock," Revy growled just before it was our time to leave. I turned to face her only to see her bulrush me and slam me against a wall. "What the fuck was that?"

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: I do hope that makes up for last week somewhat. I know its screwy when read after the last chapter, but I really wanted to see Rock's arrival to the city. That and I always like cuts where it looks like one character is making a move to benefit them, when in reality they are playing into their opponent's hands. See_ Code Geass _for how to really do this really well.

Also don't think that "Oh okay, so every chapter from Rock's POV will just be recap and him going 'everything is going to plan.'" No this type of chapter will be a rare occurrence. I just needed the timeline to even up a bit and this seemed like a fun way to do that. Now we can really play ball with the insane plotting.

I listed before that _Black Lagoon_ has a good supporting cast to throw against Batman. Chief reason being Balalaika. In a show where every woman can kick every ass, Balalaika I think is queen. Sure she doesn't do it a lot, but she doesn't have to. She has the loyalty of some of the worlds greatest warriors. You don't get that to that kind of position by being a pansy. She is not a woman to be underestimated. Balalaika also lacks the lofty ideals that defines just about every villain in the trilogy (yes that includes the Joker). Not saying that the villains are bad, mind you, just that she does everything in the mindset of a soldier unbound from a code of ethics.

No serious bitching about Bats today. Rock encapsulated some of my thoughts while going over part of his plan. And he's right, Batman on the most basic level deals with people who don't have a lot of higher education. And let's be honest, people who don't have a lot of knowledge on how the world works tend to rely on superstition to explain things. Just saying is all.

In other news, I'm running a _Sailor Moon_ RP, Reborn Destiny, on this site and we could use some more players. Check it out here: forum/Reborn-Destiny/158981/

Send me a PM if you have any questions about it or are interested in joining. Yeah I know I should have put this in _Destiny Sucks_, but hey I'm not here to judge you or your tastes. But feel free to judge the hell out of me, so leave a review and tell me what you think.

Until next time, *Moves to take contact out of eye* Now _you_ will- *poke* OH GOD THE PAIN {Seriously, how does he do that?}


	5. Chapter 5

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter V: Bad Company

Why was I _so_ fucking mad? "What the fuck was that?" I snarled at Rock. I held him by his stupid shirt's collar, pinning him to a wall. Rock just stared at me. "Well?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered in his usual polite tone. Bullshit if I ever heard it. He was fucking there!

"Don't give me that crap. Why did you just stand there and watch?" I demanded. Not that I gave a damn about the fate of Cynthia Redding. But what Rock did. "It wasn't you! The Rock I know doesn't sit around and watch someone get blown to hell like its fucking C-SPAN!"

Why did that piss me off so much? He just stared at me with an empty expression. I reaffirmed my grip, shoving him against the wall again.

Rock grabbed my hand. There it was! The obsession, it had consumed him! "She was just a disposable pawn, Revy. Just an obstacle to be removed," Rock coldly stated. A flash of red fell over my eyes.

I found Rock limp in my grip and a slight sting in my left hand after the veil lifted. Rock weakly looked up. A bruise was starting to form on his left cheek.

The only sound in the room was of our heavy panting. I could feel heat radiating off of him. Sweat was forming on our brows.

"I'm _going_ to win, Revy. I don't care if I have to burn down the whole damn city to do it," he viciously declared. I straightened him out by smacking him against the wall.

"You've let this little hunt for the Batman get to you, Ahab," I said between gritted teeth.

"Why do you even give a fuck?" Rock muttered. His face slunk down, his eyes glued to his feet.

"What?" I demanded. Rock looked up into my eyes. He grabbed my arm and tried I pry me off.

"Why do you give a fuck about what I do? You watch people die without batting an eye all the time, but when I do it's enough to prompt a fucking inquisition?" he shouted.

I felt my brow curl. "Because you're supposed to be different! You're not supposed to see people as pawns or obstacles or things! You see people—"

_You see_ _me_.

"—as people!" I shouted back. Damn it all! I let go of Rock and stormed to the door.

"Revy," Rock said. I stopped. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be your white knight anymore."

White knight? I never wanted a damn white knight. Still the words hurt me deep sown. Did I really think that after all the shit he'd seen and suffered through that he would be the same sniveling looser I dragged off a boat in the South China Sea?

I turned around to see Rock had his hand held out to me. "But I can still be your friend and partner," he added. I saw _it _etched into the somber expression on his face.

Doubt. Fear. Anxiety. Regret?

Was the old Rock was still in there, only hidden behind a mask of apathy? If he was, then was he just doing what he had to do to keep his sanity from completely slipping away? I felt my heart sink. I wanted to deck him again and again until I pried out the old Rock out.

The sound of police sirens echoed in the distance, giving me pause. We quickly exited the room. "So what's next?" I asked as we left. I didn't want to think about what was happening inside Rock's anymore, but I did want to know what else he had in store.

"Now we are going start the Turn," Rock said in a low voice.

"The Turn?" I whispered once we were in the hall. Rock put his finger to his lips. I stayed silent. We got down to the ground floor and went out the back. A silver sedan was waiting for us with a driver ready to go.

"So the Turn?" I asked again. Rock nodded.

"The Batman is going to take action now. He'll be searching for clues and we'll give him some," he said.

I cocked my eyebrow. "You're going to bait him into chasing false leads. Why?"

"Because while he is out, we're going to grab Alfred Pennyworth," Rock said. I crossed my arms and shook my head.

"How do you know that Wayne even gives a damn about this Pennyworth? He's just a servant," I pointed.

Rock smirked. "He's Wayne's last link to his parents as well as his guardian growing up. Unless Wayne is truly a heartless bastard, Pennyworth is the perfect bait," he said.

"You're hinging everything on the assumption that Bruce Wayne cares about one old man, even for you that is really stupid," I retorted.

Rock wasn't backing down. "Maybe, but compared to grabbing Jim Gordon or Lucius Fox this is the most sane course of action," he countered. A fair point I suppose. But I had doubts about it.

In the shower that night, I braced myself against the tile wall. As hard as I tried those thoughts from earlier crept back in. Rock was slipping away and I was powerless to stop it. Being powerless was nothing new for me. Normally a few hundred dollars and a few bullets fixed it.

But my normal solution wasn't going to bring Rock back. Not in a way that would satisfy me. I turned off the water and started to dry off with a towel.

I dressed and walked into the main room. Rock was standing out on the balcony with a cigarette. I joined him, leaning against the iron railing.

"What would you do…if I…if I died tomorrow?" I suddenly asked. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Why did I ask such a stupid question?

Rock scratched his chin. He cocked an eyebrow. "I guess I'd pop a beer and watch the ocean for a while," he glumly said. He adjusted his cigarette. "What about you? If I died what would you do?"

I bit my lip. I didn't have an answer. Probably yell and scream and curse a lot. I do that enough as it is so I doubt anyone would notice.

"I don't blame you. I wouldn't give a crap about myself now either," Rock commented on silence. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

_No…I!_

Why couldn't I just let this go? No matter what I tried it always came back to my anger at Rock! Why was this change bugging me so much? We just sat there in awkward silence until sleep beckoned us to our beds.

Morning found the paper filled to the brim with reports about the little fireworks show the Ruskies put on. No consensus had been formed on the unfortunate end of Cynthia Redding. The police had yet to finish their investigation but Commissioner Gordon insisted that it was just a gas explosion due to a faulty pipe. Local inflammatory demagogues were calling it the Return of the Joker or the work of a Joker copycat.

Rock just read the sports page and sipped his coffee. He never once glanced at the front page or the editorial.

Balalaika showed him said page after she arrived, offering congratulations on a good start to the plan. Rock did his humble, just-happy-to-help shtick and returned to his baseball scores.

Sis sat down by me and ordered her breakfast. She turned to me with a curious eye. "What's wrong Two Hands?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled.

"You say that, but I've known you too long not to know the warning signs. Save your strength for the caped crusader," she advised. I let out a sigh, my gaze focused on Rock. Sis followed my line of sight and frowned.

"Roanapur gets to us all eventually. Rock's resistance to it was admirable but even he couldn't hold out forever," She said with a sigh at the end.

"Alas poor Yorick," Sis mused as she lit up a cigar.

She was right though. Batman, whoever he really was, was the goal. He was why Rock was here. He was the reason why Rock had to do these things! Oh ho, I was going to enjoy beating the crap out of that cape wearing creep.

But at the same time I remembered what Benny told me. If Rock won it all, he might lose me. And he might not even care! Something about that image sent waves of fear down my spine.

I wasn't going to quit on him though. He was my _partner_ after all. Perhaps I thought maybe I could keep him from slipping further away.

The rest of my day was spent traveling with Rock. He was inspecting sights and checking the ship over. It was an electrical nightmare in the ship. The crew was patching up loose wiring and installing more lights. Unused sections of the ship were being sealed off and welded shut.

The night found us in the back of a maintenance van turned mobile command center with Boris, Sis's top lieutenant, and Mikhail listening in on a police radio. Rock and Boris were charting out patrols on a map of the city. Marked on the map was a playing card spade. Apparently that was where the bait was.

Balalaika paid off a group of locals punks to hang around a suspicious van and mess with a few packs of watered down C4 in the back. The van was parked near a new police outreach center. Of course it was built in honor of Harvey Dent.

Rock pulled out a cellphone after he completed another iteration of the map. He handed it to me. I shot him a skeptic glare.

"You have to be the one to call it in, you don't have a questionable accent," he said.

"Racist," I jokingly muttered. For the first time in my life I called nine-one-one. I got a ring.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" a woman on the other end answered.

"Yes I'm just past your new outreach center and I just saw a bunch of men moving a box of white stuff into a van. I—I think they said something about a detonator," I said in the best helpless-innocent-woman voice I could muster.

The woman remained silent. Sweat formed on my brow. "Okay ma'am, please leave the area in a calm manner, we are sending a patrol over there now," she said. I smirked and hung up, handing the phone back to Rock.

The dispatch went out and it was now time for the waiting game. If Batman took the bait, then we'd grab Pennyworth. If not, we'd have to try something else.

So the minutes ticked by.

Boris continued to chart out the information on the map. His steady hand expertly accomplished his task.

Rock fiddled with his pencil, occasionally scribbling a bat logo on a piece of scratch paper. He'd stop himself and pull his hand away only to repeat the process minutes later. He took a swig of water after each cycle.

Mikhail applied another nicotine patch to his arm. He leaned back and closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

I just chewed on an unlit cigarette. This was the kind of crap nobody in our business liked. Except maybe Rock, but that's only because he hated getting shot at.

"Holy shit what was that?" the radio crackled. We all straightened up. Rock started drumming his left arm.

"Unknown black vehicle just turned onto 6th Street," another cop reported in.

"It's—it's Batman! All units report and pursue!"

Rock's fist gave a light fist pump. He turned to me. "Alright, are you ready?"

I nodded. Show time, baby.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Oh editing, how many greats have you saved? Yes this chapter may not be the best one in this story, but trust me before this made it to MS Word it was way, way worse. Revy is one of those characters that on the surface is a fairly straight forward. She's the bad ass chick that wears skimpy clothing. But if you are like me and tend to get into a character's head when writing them in the first-person, then you'll find her to be kind of hard to write. Especially when you are trying to deal with her relationship to Rock.

One of the reasons I really enjoy _Black Lagoon _is the Revy-Rock dynamic. You can come away with them being platonic friends or see a future romance. I was trying to capture that ambiguity here, mostly through Revy's frustration. We've all had that friend who we fear is spiraling ever downward after a radical change in behavior. Revy's problems in handling that situation are her lack of people skills and obvious anger issues. Thus I easily see her trying to ignore it or blame someone else.

Also, yes I just quoted Shakespeare. Now I love _Hamlet_, _Henry V_, and _Richard III_. They are among the best works of modern English. But goddamn they are dense and not what I think of when I'm trying to write escapist fantasy. However_Hamlet_ always comes to mind when I watch _Black Lagoon._ Thematically, mind you. Death is so often a subject in both works that I can't help it.

The quote I used works both ways too. I imagine Balalaika having watched _Hamlet_ and seeing a lot of herself in the man. And the quote itself is from a monologue about the effects of death, and seeing as the denizens of Roanapur are often referred to as the walking dead, Balalaika is commenting on Rock's state.

I'm running a _Sailor Moon_ RP, Reborn Destiny, on this site and still looking for more players. Check it out here: forum/Reborn-Destiny/158981/

Send me a PM if you have any questions about it or are interested in joining.

Anyway feel free to bitch about the lack of Batman, the weirdness of this chapter, or you just want to take out your anger on some anonymous loser on the internet with a review or a PM comment.

Until next time, Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thou— {Shut the f**k up, we are trying to sleep here!}


	6. Chapter 6

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter VI: The Cowl

Spot lights shone down on me, forcing me to squint. Dozens of sirens screamed behind me. The police radio roared with voices of several angry pursuers. The Gotham PD, their tenacity was unmatched by any other force in the country.

I probably made a major mistake taking the Batmobile. But I wasn't expecting whoever was behind the attack on Ms. Redding to move so soon. My knee barely had time to adjust to the brace Fox had made.

It was subpar compared to the specs I had in mind. The fact that I had one at all was good enough at the moment. Prolonged fighting was out of the question, but taking on a few punks was easy enough. I would have to thank Fox later.

Right now I had to break off of my pursuers. All the while the nagging feeling of convenience stuck in my mind. The police report about the assassination was a probably a cover-up.

It was most likely Jim Gordon's work. We had worked too hard for this and we weren't going to let some Joker Knockoffs ruin it. My own investigation the crime scene earlier in the night confirmed it was no accident. The position of the body, the size and composition of the explosion, and a tiny glitch in the security camera's footage earlier in the day led me to believe it was a brutal professional hit.

But from what I heard over the radio, the guys by the outreach center sounded like rank amateurs. It wasn't adding up. Those punks must have been a distraction, but who set it up?

I needed to catch one of them and get them to talk. The police on the other hand were more interested in catching me. Not that I blamed them. As far as they knew I was a dangerous criminal who murdered their friends and colleagues.

I took a sharp right turn and drove down the main street. The blinking sirens started to diminish in my rearview. New red and blue lights ripped open in front of me.

There was a side street exit. I'd have to take it or risk running over the police officers. I turned onto the side street and gunned it, watching police cars funnel in behind me.

Commissioner Jim Gordon's voice crackled over the radio. He was demanding a situation report. Some captain said that they were in hot pursuit of me and that the van that I was going to investigate had disappeared.

Damn, I jumped the gun. Maybe I should have waited, but I couldn't risk the attackers succeeding again.

It took me well over an hour to lose my pursuers. I regretfully pulled the Batmobile into the cave. I opened the hatch and got out.

Alfred wasn't there to greet me with a glib observation. I got out and started stripping off the armor. It fit a little tighter than before. I put on a black shirt and shorts.

Still no Alfred. I went up to the mansion. The centuries old home creaked ever so slightly in the night. Most of the furniture in the unused sections of the house had been covered. "Alfred!" I called out.

The call echoed around. I checked the garage. All the cars were accounted for. So where was he?

I went to our security room. I had it installed during the rebuilding of the manor. It housed the central nervous system of a massive security system. I started tracking Alfred from the time I left.

He seemed to have been on his nightly routine. Then at about ten o'clock he went to the door. I switched feeds over to the outside camera. There was a woman by the looks of it in a long coat and a beanie. I couldn't make much detail out of her face other than she was likely of Asian descent.

The woman started to plead with Alfred. He was rather suspicious. They talked for a minute. Alfred lowered his guard only to receive a nasty cross arm from the woman. The man collapsed to the floor.

She immediately stripped off the jacket, revealing her to be in Daisy Duke Shorts, a midriff exposing black tank top, and two pistols in shoulder holsters. But her most prominent feature was an intricate tribal tattoo on her right shoulder and arm. She then turned to the camera and flipped it off with a wicked smile before easily carrying Alfred off, covering him with her coat. By the looks of it, she had found a blind spot because that was the last I saw of her.

It was a message. Whoever was trying to get rid of the Dent Act was also going after me as well. But were they going after Bruce Wayne or Batman? If they were going after Bruce Wayne, they would have searched the mansion for him.

They must have been going after Batman, then. But how did they know my secret identity? Did they work for the League of Shadows?

Never mind. It was safer to operate under the assumption they knew my identity and work up from there. Alfred was just bait to draw me in. These people were not messing around.

They had left me once again alone in the world. My parents gunned down in the streets. The love of my life was blown up in a sick mind game. I couldn't risk Jim Gordon's career. And the man I considered a father figure was at the hands of people who aimed to be my enemies.

I had to stop my right hand from quaking with anger. I had to save Alfred! But there were no clues. I could dust the porch for hair and finger prints, though I had a feeling there wasn't going to be anything substantial. I didn't want the police involved either.

This threat was clearly targeting me. Until I knew the full extent of their abilities, I'd rather not risk having more dead cops on the news so soon after the Joker Attacks.

Sleep did little to calm my nerves. I tossed and turned all through the night.

The next day was spent trying to figure out who might have been behind the kidnapping. It was futile but I had to try.

My cellphone started to ring. It was Alfred's number. I looked outside to find the day had turned to dusk. I answered the phone and kept silent.

"Hello Batsy, this is the little bitch that had the balls to take your Limey nursemaid," a woman menacingly purred from the other side. So they did know.

"I'm at the end of the Narrows, if you're interested," she said. She hung up the phone. I rushed to the cave.

Night had fallen by the time I reached the Narrows. I began search the end of the slums near the waterfront. Steam and smog had started to mix together, forming a heavy atmosphere around the areas near the shore.

I finally found the woman standing under a streetlight on a deserted street corner across from a pier smoking a cigarette. She had dyed hair as it turned out. A shade of burgundy I had never seen. I jumped down from my perch.

The woman noticed but looked unimpressed. She dropped her cigarette and stomped it out. Her arms folded across her chest. She was dressed as impractically as she was in the footage.

"Where is he?" I barked at her as I approached. She just started to chuckle. It took her a moment to stop slapping her forehead. She looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh you're serious with that voice?" She mockingly retorted. "Ah well, see I can't let you know where your little servant is yet."

She was just another distraction! These people kept toying with me. "You're just low level _scum_, tell me where he is and I'll go easy on you," I countered.

The smile on her face vanished. I felt a jolt of pain in my jaw. The woman was right in front of me, delivering a powerful jab to my jaw with a nasty snarl. I saw deep into her eyes for the briefest of moments. It was like peeking ever so slightly into the darkest void. Even the Joker had some kind of spark to him.

I regained my faculties and took up a proper fighting stance. The girl wasn't slowing down, powering up another punch.

She was fast, far faster than I anticipated. And I had apparently hit a nerve or something.

I finally blocked her strikes and started to fight back. The girl dodged. She retreated into the construction project. I pursued. This one was not getting away.

The darkness was where she fled. She was playing to my strength. I looked around the area. A couple of gunshots rang out and I felt a pang on my back.

The girl was behind me. I turned around to see her charge me. She was screaming bloody murder. Her blows were targeting my face. Her masters had done their homework.

This goon was not an average one at that. She was experienced and had good instincts. But there was a certain lack of discipline.

I caught her fist and delivered a gut punch. The girl heaved then broke off and disappeared again. Where was she going? I could see the main part of the docks come into view.

Something beneath me creaked. Boards beneath me gave out and I fell through onto my back. She used the weight of my armor to lay a trap! I saw her jump down on top of me. She started pounding my jaw. Why hadn't she pulled one of her pistols out and kill me?

I took about twelve hits before delivering a mighty head butt. The girl recoiled off of me. She quickly fled with me in hot pursuit.

Blood was leaking from my mouth. My knee was aching. I fought through the pain. There was too much at stake for me to just roll over and let this girl, and her masters win. Alfred, Gotham their fates hinged on me making the right calls. No more mistakes, she was going to talk and do her time!

We raced through the streets. I had to stop her soon, my brace was going to last me long at this rate. She peppered me with nine millimeter rounds every now then. We were now deep in the docks district.

I followed her down an ally. She was waiting for me with a grenade launcher! The explosive hissed through the air. I quickly drew up my cape and shielded my face from the blast. She wasn't fooling around anymore it seemed. This was going to be a long, painful night.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Oh my god, I finally got here. But this is just the start. Yes the next two to three chapters are going to be Revy and Batman beating the ever loving crap out of each other. Just be forewarned that this kind of hand-to-hand stuff is not the strongest part of my writing. Just read _Project: Apocrypha_ for proof.

I'm stronger in the _Star Trek_/_Star Wars _school of action set pieces. Sword fights, phaser duels, and massive fleets and armies clashing against an epic backdrop. Rest assured I will do my best, by spending a third of the time in Rock's perspective. Ha-ha-ha, ah...cop-out.

Tell me who you think will win in a review!

Until next time, Did you see that one _Robot Chicken_ Sketch? {You know the one}


	7. Chapter 7

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter VII: The Dark Knight Returns

Gotham's Narrows district was very similar to Roanapur. The smell of death and despair lingered in the air. Even the distant sound gunfire out in the distance seemed mundane and familiar. The cracks and peeling paint of the decaying buildings wouldn't be out-of-place. Thick smog wrapped around the buildings set of a pang of nostalgia in my gut.

The average mooks on the street eyed everyone with suspicion. Save for the ladies in fishnet stockings and halter tops that patrolled the street corners with guys in trench coats and thick gloves, both offering some sort of deal with passersby. Not a police officer in sight.

But for all the similarities, this was definitely not Roanapur. Sure the area was impoverished, crime was happening all over, and morality was just an illusion for the elite. These people though, they were not the walking dead as Revy called the denizens of Roanapur.

Unlike back home, these people had some sort of hope. They could find an honest day's work when the opportunity arose. They weren't surrounded by the world's worst criminals. They were just people trying to live the best they could.

Roanapur had some people like that, but Roanapur got to you eventually. I had to see that every morning in the mirror.

Revy and I were standing along the shore, each enjoying a cigarette. The sun was setting behind the city. It had been a day since we kidnapped Wayne's butler. Revy made sure to leave a calling card.

Thus far the billionaire had yet to file a missing persons report. He had probably gotten the message. I knew who he was, and that I had the resources to hurt him. Wayne was probably trying to figure out what happened. He'd know soon enough.

Now was the calm before the storm as they say. Revy was watching a ship leave the harbor. I was facing the city, taking in the decrepit view.

"So are you going to win?" Revy asked. She took a drag from her cigarette. Her words from the other day would have scared me to death a year ago. That day I knew that they had come from a place of fear. Deep down she cared and I had turned her away.

I wasn't going to hurt her more than I had to. She was never going to accept that which I had become. I was still her friend and she knew it, but right now I needed her for a much more personal reason.

"I am. Thanks for doing this," I replied.

"Don't be fucking stupid. I'm doing this because I want to beat up a rich asshole," Revy growled. What was I expecting from her? She was hiding her true feelings underneath a mask of gruff nihilism. The problem was she had been doing that for, what I imagine was, her whole life. Did she know the difference between the woman and the mask?

The mask…

The mask…

The mask…

It was the mask after all that fascinated me about Batman in the first place. It wasn't just the cowl that hid his face. The mask was the intricate web of interconnected events, layers of misdirection, and the psychology behind it that intrigued me.

Here was a man who donned a symbol to strike fear into his enemies. He had harnessed something so classic, so _primal_ and he turned it into a weapon. His very shadow was enough to terrify those who didn't understand. Namely, his totem: the bat.

Whatever happened that made him become like the bat, I do not know more than it was an interesting decision. The bat is a fascinating creature. Seen as a caring guide in the dark but also as demonic monster in the distance. It was a creature banished from the light to forever wander the night searching for meaning within it, just as Mr. Wayne must have felt in the alleyway after his parents were shot.

But for all the terror and wisdom a bat could muster, it was still a feeble and very breakable creature. Bring it into the light, cripple its wings and there was nothing left but a pitiful rat desperately trying to flee. That was what I planed to do to Wayne. I wanted to prove that I was smarter than _him_, that _he_ could not hide in the twilight, and that I could _win_.

A light laugh escaped my lips. The twilight was where Revy told me I was drifting so many times. Maybe the real reason I was so fascinated by the Batman was that I saw a kindred spirit. Maybe I was jealous of the fact that as we sank into the darkness he was able to do good and save people, while I only failed.

Now there was little in my way. All that was left was to set out the final trap. "You ready, Revy?" I finally asked. She nodded. I pulled out the phone we found on the butler and handed it to her. "It's all yours."

She smirked. "Been waiting all day for this," she growled. She found Wayne's number and punched it.

Her hands drummed against the railing as the call went out. An evil smile crawled on to her face.

"Hello Batsy, this is the little bitch that had the balls to take your Limey nursemaid. I'm at the end of the Narrows, if you're interested," she menacingly said. She added a flare of flirty to the end.

Revy hung up the phone and gave it back. She immediately checked her pistols.

"Balalaika has set up a few drop boxes around the fire zone. If you two get to close to her perimeter, snipers and troops will turn you back in," I instructed. She rolled her eyes. "And if you are done find a box and fire the flare inside it. If they lose sight of you they will assume the worst and drive the Batman back to the ship."

"Just shut up Rock," Revy dryly said. She cocked her weapons then holstered them. "I know what I'm doing. But do tell Sis that I appreciate the toys."

I nodded. "Please come back," I sincerely added.

"Quit worrying and get ready to watch the show," she requested.

A smirk came to my lips. I gave passing wave as I walked towards the docks. She was the last critical step in the plan. The Batman had to go twelve rounds with her. All the while she would lead him to the dark heart of the plan, wearing him down to make his capture that much easier.

I walked up the gangplank to Balalaika ship. Several of her troops were waiting up top, patrolling. They paid me no mind as I went up to the bridge.

Balalaika, Boris, and Mikhail were there already. Much like her office, the bridge was choked in thick smoky haze. Though, it lacked the simple comforts of her office. They were replaced with the cold effects of military decorum.

The blonde woman intently watched a series of monitors set up by the window. The monitors gave a glimpse at the various drop boxes set up throughout the district.

Nearby snipers and gunmen kept the locals from getting too curious. The only one not show a box site was the one watching Revy. She was enjoying one last cigarette.

"You really think this is going to work?" Mikhail asked. He crossed his arms in contempt. I honestly didn't have an answer. If Wayne broke expectation, then it was back to the drawing board.

"Rock is playing to win, Mikhail. He isn't going to make a mistake now," Balalaika said between drags of her cigar. Having her confidence was a huge double edged sword. If I'm right, I have a powerful ally in my pocket. Wrong and I most likely will be getting very familiar with the bottom of Gotham's harbor.

It was a tense hour of numb inducing waiting. The sun was setting when a large figure finally came into the frame before Revy. That was it! Checkmate in two, Mr. Wayne. A bold statement perhaps but there he was, striding up to Revy like some…dark knight returning to the field of battle.

Revy put out her cigarette. She then started to laugh at something he said. Damn it, don't lose focus now!

They quickly dropped into a brief verbal spat before Revy caved in and charged him. Her opening salvo must have caught him off guard as he didn't even raise a defense.

The fight should have been one-sided. Batman had superior training and equipment. Revy just had her Cutlasses and what Balalaika had given her, mixed with years of experience and deadly anger.

She wasn't sparing him anything. Each shot, each punch aimed for the Batman's head. At least she was paying attention to my briefings and avoiding the armor. Or she was going for a kill shot; that was very much in the realm of possibility.

Revy started her job by drawing him towards us. She grabbed a grenade launcher from the first box she came across. The Batman hunched down and drew up his cape over his body. The cape absorbed the blows, sending smoke plums and shrapnel shards all over.

Wayne Enterprises spared no expense. Revy grimaced at the sight and dropped the launcher. Her legs pumped into a good run. She led him across the street.

"Captain, this is Bravo-two. The dancers are at the edge of the floor. Repeat: dancers are at the edge of the floor," one of the sniper positions reported over the radio.

"Give them a warning shot," Balalaika ordered.

"Yes, captain."

Revy reappeared at another drop site. Batman engaged her in close quarters. The two entered a deep frenzy. I watched a flash pop on the wall near the Batman's head. The two broke off, Revy flipping off the sniper.

She ran back the way she came. The Batman didn't pursue. A sniper round hit him in the chest. He brushed it off, leaving only a dent ringed with black powder in the armor. He was quickly peppered by nine millimeter rounds from behind. Revy was probably verbally goading him on as well.

He took bit it with gusto, releasing a flurry of blows against Revy. The girl dodged what she could and absorbed those that made contact. It was truly remarkable watching those two fight. I had never seen someone fight like Batman. Even in his armor he moved with dexterity and precision.

Mikhail chuckled. "I have to admit it but I thought the bat-freak was going to wipe the floor with that little bitch of yours," he said. "Care for a job here once this quiets down?"

"Sorry Mr. Mikhail, this is just a side job. I'm not for regular hire," I coldly retorted.

"Too bad, with a guy like you at my side I could be running the whole damn city in a matter of weeks," Mikhail mused. I doubt I could work for him. He was on his best behavior now but he seemed like a twisted fucker. I returned to the screens.

I wasn't going to be subject to the whims of someone like that. Balalaika may have been a cold hearted bitch on the best of day, but at least she'd have a reason for killing you. Well a reason beyond the pleasure of ending your life.

Revy and Batman were closing in on each other once again. I noticed something about the caped crusader. It was small but vital. He was favoring his left leg! It wasn't slowing him down much, but if I saw it from here then Revy will figure it out. Armor or not, pain was pain.

The girl grabbed something out of the box and then disappeared into a nearby warehouse. I took a close look inside the drop box. The machine gun inside was still there! I turned to Balalaika. "We need eyes on them, now!" I shouted.

Balalaika nodded. "We've lost sight of the dancers. I want eyes at point twelve on the double," she ordered.

"Yes, captain," a soldier responded.

The blonde glanced at me. An easy frown fell across her face. "You look worried," she commented.

"I think Revy took the flare gun in the box," I said. If Balalaika was nervous or scared I couldn't tell. Unlike Revy or Batman, she had long since been consumed by her mask.

What's your plan, Revy?

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: For the record I am firmly against animal abuse. Please don't go out and harass bats over this.

Interesting chapter here. Rock muses over his opinion and relationship to Batman. We also get the set up for Revy's possibly fiery plan. Seeing as we are in an action scene, there isn't much more I could do with Rock.

If you're looking for one of my favorite interpretations of Batman and his mythos, check out Neil Gaiman's "Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?". It highlights both the greatest strengths and weakness of Batman, and asks if we would really want to be Batman.

Seeing as Warner Bros. has been fairly quiet as of late I thought I'd ask an important question: why does anyone think Superman vs. Batman is a good idea? I've never been given a good philosophical argument as to why they shouldn't get along. I've always seen them as two sides of the same coin. Batman is the local defender, using fear and darkness to stop villains. Superman is the world's champion, using his incredible powers to do as much good as he can while also stopping villains. Bottom line: they're both _heroes_ just on a different scale and using different methods. Why do people think those are so irreconcilable?

If you have an answer, leave it with a review of the chapter.

Until next time, I tried to start a Church of Superman once {But the Catholic Church sued me for Copyright infringement}


	8. Chapter 8

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter VIII: Dragula

I was going to _fucking_ kill him! I was going to put his corpse in a fucking cheap-ass body bag! Fuck Rock, Fuck Sis, Batman was going to fucking die tonight!

I'd shove those stupid horn things right up his ass. All before I popped every round my Cutlasses could muster right into his smug pretty boy face. Then I'd dump his fucking body in the bay. First I had to win.

The smoke of gunfire and exhaust steam filled the city air. Gotham's Narrows was a strange place. It reminded me of Roanapur in a lot of ways. Everyone I saw was distrusting. None of the buildings had seen a lick of proper maintenance in at least a decade. The whores and the drug peddlers were still pushing the same stuff, only at jacked up prices.

It lacked the same stench of death and grime that choked the streets of Roanapur. The Narrows certainly stank and the people were very familiar with death and sanitation wasn't a priority. It was hard to explain. Everyone still had a spark of life would have to be the best way to say it. The people here were still firmly among the living.

But the Batman, Bruce Wayne, or whatever fucking nut was hiding behind the mask: he was something else. I'll be the first to admit the outfit he wore was a little scary. Certainly when he was cloaked in shadow it was really scary. It was also surprisingly functional. The armor fucking worked, and what the hell was up with his cape? Rock was going to have to answer later.

He was something in between, more dead than Rock but still clinging to what little life he still had. That clinginess must have been his driving force because he refused to quit. The snipers hadn't deterred him and my arsenal thus far had little effect on slowing him down. He was like the damn maid dressed in black armor. However the maid was pretty fucking near unbeatable in her prime.

My current opponent wasn't as fit at the moment. He was badly favoring his left knee and his reaction time was rusty at best. Unfortunately his timing _was_ steadily improving, but it was badly costing his knee. Now all I needed was an opportunity to fully exploit the situation. I ran into another alleyway. There was another present from Sis waiting.

Something else filled my nostrils past the decay and the smoke. It was the bitter scent of gasoline! I felt a smile crawl onto my face. I quickly ran to the box and threw it open, collecting my prize. The sound of Batman's boots echoed from around the corner.

This was going to get _real_ fun. I burst through the door and ran inside. Oh yeah baby, the craptastic old joint was an old chop shop. Perfect.

There were three barrels of gasoline and a makeshift lift as well as some rusting power tools. I had already tricked him into a pit earlier. So I'd most likely have to force him into this one. Then we'd find out what fried bat tastes like.

"Alright you, this is over," Batman growled. He lowered himself to charge me. I positioned myself between him and the lift, taking a firm stance. He was going to serpentine during his charge, and lead in with his right shoulder to protect his knee.

The trick was to sidestep to my right and deliver a blow to the knee behind his defense. If I moved to early, he'd see the trap and break off the attack. Move to late, I could very well end up in the pit with him. Then it would be a dog fight to get out of there.

Batman charged forward, shifting side to side. Time slowed down as I crouched down. I felt my heart creep up into my throat. This was it.

Three...

Two...

One...

I took my side step. The Batman slowed down to react. Bam, an opening. I raised my foot and delivered a blow to his knee.

The crunch bounced around the room. The Batman growled as he lost balance. I followed up by pushing him into the pit.

It took the press of a button to pin him under the lift. I quickly got to work pouring gasoline on the nutcase. He grunted and groaned as the putrid liquid dosed him. A song came to mind.

I started to hum the tune as I finished dumping the gas. I pulled the flare I grabbed from the drop box. Was it ironic that the device meant to save me was going to kill my opponent? The hell if I knew, I just cocked the thing and put my very itchy finger on the trigger.

A twisted smirk twitched onto my face as I reached another verse of the song I was humming. "Dead I am the rat, feast upon the Bat. Tender is the fur, dying as you burn," I spat my modified lyrics.

"What!" the Batman shrieked.

With a gentle pull of my finger the red hot flare launched into the pit. The area was set ablaze in a magnificent whoosh. I started to walk out for a smoke and relish in my victory.

Something behind me snapped. I slowly turned around. There he was, like some sort of undying monster covered in soot and scorch marks. His tattered cape ruffled behind him. I guess the stupid thing wasn't as indestructible as I thought. The inferno roared behind him, casting him in shadow. He looked like some sort of hell-spawn that just crawled out of the abyss.

Okay, Plan B time: I was going to beat him to pulp. He was not a monster or a superman, he was just a man dressed as a stupid bat. And if I had learned anything in this world it was that men break.

Batman started to advance towards me. Each step was a deliberate defiance of human limitation. But I saw it in his eyes. We knew this was it, the final act. The clock had struck noon and now it was time to draw.

My body ached. My throat chafed. My eyes itched. My head pounded.

Doubt started to creep in. I slowly backed out of the room. We were choking on the rising smoke.

Outside I could see we were now about one hundred yards from Sis's ship. The Batman wasn't far behind me. I had to move. I had to fight.

I unloaded a clip at him and ran. He was in hot pursuit. I pushed myself forward. Now I needed to dictate the terms of the battle.

There was another box just twenty yards from here. Another weapon! Damn I must've look like hell. But I could imagine the Batman felt far worse than me.

I had to keep going. I wasn't going to die here! Yeah, Rock told me that the murder spree the Batman was said to have committed was a ruse. But I wasn't willing to take that kind of chance with a man I just tried to burn alive.

How did he get out of there anyway? Ah fuck it. I scrambled away.

I felt an incredibly painful blow hit my back. Something cracked. I think my arm just got popped out of its socket. My footing gave and I crashed to the pavement. The weight of an elephant might as well be on top of me. A gloved hand grabbed my shoulder. I was flipped over like a fucking ragdoll.

But there they were his fucking eyes. Batman delivered a massive gut punch. "Now where is he?" the vigilante demanded. I started laughing. There was nothing funny about the situation, yet I laid there with warm blood running out of my mouth and drenched in a layer sweat howling like a goddamn hyena.

"Talk!" he demanded once again. I just leaned my head against the ground, taking a deep calming breath.

"You know I always hated you," I whispered. The Batman growled. "Growing up, I always thought you and I were _so_ different."

"What are you talking about, where is the man you took yesterday," he shouted. I coughed up some blood.

"But when I look at you now, all I see a scared little kid who lost everything. You've deluded yourself thinking that you're fighting for some _noble_ cause using symbols and mommy issues to justify it. Really you aren't fighting for anything but the _thrill_," I hissed. The Batman was unmoved by my assessment. He delivered another gut punch.

"Why else would you be here. A million sane solutions and you choose to fight," I added.

I could feel his grip on my shoulders waver. "Stop it right now and tell me where he is!"

"In the end Batsy, you and I aren't so different. We're nothing but dogs fighting in the shadows of decent society. When we're gone no one will remember us, no one will mourn for us. Just another couple of corpses in the gutter," I heaved out. I pointed towards the direction of Sis's ship. "And if you're still fucking stupid enough to go looking for the butler, you'll find him in a Russian tanker over." I felt my body go limp.

The Batman let go of me and he stormed off. I was alone beaten, bloody, and broken all by a man dressed as a flying rodent in Gotham City. More blood coughed up from mouth. Not how I imagined I'd die.

But before that, I wanted to sleep. Not long, just a…little nap…to…to…tide…me

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

A/N: Does anyone else vaguely remember that period about fifteen years ago when MTV still remembered what the "M" stood for? I jest of course. Well we are five chapters away from the end. Then we can see the real reason this little project came together: to watch Batman and Rock talk. I am not even kidding. I'll go into that more when we get there.

Revy's criticisms were always going to be brought up and this is about how I imagined it would go. After being beaten in a good fight, she'd give a scathing comment about how similar they are. While I agree with part of her assessment: they are both survives of a harsh world built from a tragic past. However I reject it as a thesis on Batman as a whole. On Frank Miller's vision of Batman, yes it is totally valid. But again as a whole it doesn't hold up for me. If you do agree with her, that's cool too.

All opinions are welcome here so share it in a review, thanks!

Until next time, I only remember Lain {and Deus Ex! Deus Ex was a good game}


	9. Chapter 9

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter IX: DEH

The fight with the crazy girl was over. Hopefully she'd be alright, though I wasn't sure if she had just passed out or died. I didn't have time to check. She had told me where to find Alfred and I had to save him.

I was the _only_ one who could save him! I was the reason these lunatics took him.

I had to find the ship, normally a needle-in-the-haystack scenario at the docks. But there was only one Russian ship there. I made my way up. No guards patrolled the top of the vessel.

All the holds were sealed and the bridge was locked down. There was a single entryway that led into hold. An obvious trap but I lacked the tools to properly deal with it. If I went back to get by stuff, the Russians might leave or I could be killed by a lucky shot by one of those damn snipers.

The options were limited but I had to push on. I stepped into the opening. My steps echoed around. One panel sunk down a bit. The door closed behind me and the hallway lit up, creating eerie white channel.

I reached the interior. Not a door could be seen. I continued on, squinting as to not go blind. Something clattered behind me. But nothing was there when I checked. Then a black shape darted out of sight farther down the hall.

Loud stomps echoed all around. Gunfire erupted. I ducked down. Again nothing.

There was an arrow outlined pointing deeper into the ship. Not that there was much in the way of options.

The air was heavy and the temperature high. My armor weighed me down like never before. Pain ripped through my leg. Aches rippled over my torso.

More noises and shapes crept up from places unseen. I had to stay focused. There was a fight still to be had and I wasn't going to lose. These Russians would pay for their crimes!

I felt something strike the back of my neck. The mask cracked open and I came into consciousness chained in the center of a throne room. Sitting highest among the dozens of guards was a woman in a red business suit. She had her long bushy blonde hair in a high ponytail.

A large, distinctive scar dominated her face. But her blue eye concealed so many secrets. At the same time though, there was nothing in them. The eyes of the dead still attached to a still living body. She delicately pulled out a cigar and lit it.

My cowl was in scattered shards in front of me. My gloves and boots had been stripped off. They had my arms held out by thick chains along with my feet.

The woman took a drag of her cigar, releasing a putrid cloud of smoke. I saw behind her an Asian man nervously looking around. My heartbeat rose as the woman rose to her feet.

She strode up to me with a dark elegance. "So Mr. Wayne, you really are the Batman. I have to admit: I didn't want to believe it. When Rock first laid it all out to me, it made too much sense, just contrivance after contrivance. But then again history is nothing more than a series of coincidences played out for our viewing," the woman said, pointing to the Asian man behind her. She had a minor but noticeable Russian accent, probably faded from using English so much.

So she wasn't from Moscow. Was she a boss from another city trying to move in on Gotham? No, I would have recognized her from the FBI's dossiers. She was like a shadow, she and her men. There was nothing to her and yet she was clearly there. But what hellhole could have spawned such a shadow?

The Asian man stepped a bit closer. He had relaxed a little.

I remained silent. The woman looked amused. "I know I'm not the type of woman you usually have fawning over you, Mr. Wayne, but I am dying to see your famous charm," she purred. She gently grabbed the back of my head and turned me to face her.

A frown formed on her face. She slammed my head into the floor. The world started spinning.

"You cost the mob quite a bit, Mr. Wayne. Your antics nearly cost _us_," she said. She released my head. I felt the rest of my body forcefully lowered to the ground. Bones cracked and pained over took me. I screamed.

I turned to see the woman crushing my right hand with her heel. "Oh don't worry. Your reputation for escape is well documented. I'm just removing a dangerous set of tool from your arsenal," she said as she walked over to my other hand. The woman repeated the processes. I was forced back up to my knees. My hands looked horribly mangled, each of my fingers jutting every which way.

The men snickered at my suffering. There was a commotion and I sighted a familiar head of grey hair. They brought Alfred before me.

"Normally, Mr. Wayne, I don't like killing in cold blood," the woman began. One of her minions handed her a pistol. "It poisons the mind, makes you lose your sense of control. I'm also not much of a sadist. But let's call this a message. You fucked with the _wrong_ people, Mr. Wayne and now as they say: you have to pay the piper," the woman said. She walked over to Alfred and pointed the weapon at his head.

"No!" I shouted. Something wet rolled down my cheeks. "No, please."

The woman looked over to the Asian man who avoided eye contact with her.

"Don't give up, Master Bruce. Never give up," Alfred said in his soothing voice. I heard the pistol cock. There was only shot fired. It felt as though it had ripped straight through my heart. Some goons dragged him away for what I could only imagine was a wholly unceremonious burial.

"You monster," I growled.

"Come now, Mr. Wayne there is no need for flattery," the woman said. Her men found it hilarious.

That was it, the last of my family. He was murdered not dissimilar from my real parent's death. There was nothing left, save only a broken bat.

"Now then, put him in the cell."

The guards pulled up my chains and started to drag me out of the chamber. I was locked up in a small windowless chamber somewhere in the hold. They put me in a manner that made any movement difficult.

I tried to sleep. But every time my eyes shut I saw their faces. Mom. Dad. Rachel. Alfred. After all the countless innocents I had saved, I hadn't been able to save those that were important to me. I'm sorry Alfred, but your last words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. They were taking me to god knows where and they were going to kill me.

No!

No!

I was Batman. There was no great escape possible now. My hands were crippled and my chains tight. But no matter how hard they tried they would not take that from me. I refused to give them the satisfaction of watching me die afraid. I had long ago conquered fear and it would not rule me now.

Time became nothing as I meditated in the white void. I was brought back to reality by the opening of my door. The Asian man, Rock, entered the room with a curious expression on his face. His eyes were different than the woman's. He was still clinging to life. Who was this Rock and what did he want?

_To Be Concluded..._

* * *

A/N: Happy All Hallows Eve! As a gift to you, my fans the end of Nightfall. What more is there to be said at this point? Well I'll save any final thoughts for the next chapter.

So killing Alfred was not something I originally wanted to do. At the same time, I like the idea of Batman being totally alone at the end. Having Balalaika do it...well I made that choice and I'll stick with it.

Until next time, I met her at the Dance of Death {where I read the writing upon the Ruined Wall}


	10. Chapter 10

The following is a non-profit, fan work based off the respective works of Rei Hiroe and Christopher Nolan

All rights belong to the original creators, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., and Madhouse Inc.

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A File from _Operation Dusk Hour_...

Chapter X: Dark Victory

This was it. This was victory. Everything had worked out. The Batman was a captive of the Russian mob and Revy was clinging to life in the infirmary all thanks to my scheming.

Yet here I was leaning against the railing outside the bridge, empty and hollow. Was this how she felt all the time?

My cigarette was nearly done. I put it out and tossed the butt down. Even surrounded by so many people I knew, I felt alone. They gave me props and adulations from the men, but that was it. What more did I do than capture

The sun was setting. Creatures of the night were starting to stir. Perhaps one on board the ship was one such beast. I stood up and took a breath.

I never imagined the end of my journey to Gotham. Sure prison and death cropped up, but never victory. Win first then battle, as I've read. But now the battle was won and victory obtained: why did I feel compelled to speak with Wayne?

The question followed me down to the heart of the ship. The guard opened the door and I entered the cell. It was set up as a cruel mockery of an asylum cell. The white walls were just painted sheet metal.

Wayne was chained to the far wall with his arms spread out. His legs were also held apart. The only clothing he had was a pair of ratty black shorts. His hands were looking even more mangled now.

He looked up to me as I entered, eyeing me with suspicion. "You're the one who did all this," he growled. Even after what Balalaika did to him, he was still defiant. It probably explained the various scars on his body.

I sat down on the wall to his left. "I only planned for your capture. I never planned for what Balalaika did," I said. Wayne looked me over with a suspicious glance. He turned the ceiling.

"You're not like them. You certainly act like them, but you're not one of them. You seem…like a good person," Wayne mused. I remained silent. There wasn't anything hostile about his tone.

"With your intellect, you could have done something great. Instead you waste your life working for scum," he added with viscous contempt. I slammed my fist against the metal wall behind me. He had no right to judge me.

"You act like I simply chose this path," I growled back.

Wayne looked unimpressed with my answer. "There is always a choice between doing good and doing evil," he countered.

I started menacing, throaty laugh. There was nothing funny, but his comment was so naïve and childish. "That's your problem, Mr. Wayne. You _had_ a choice. You were _born_ into money and influence. The world is as open as your wallet allows. I was born a disposable middle class nobody and grew into disposable middle class nobody _salaryman_ doomed to be abandoned by my corporate masters and left to die in a foreign land. Do you think I had enough _control_ to make a _choice_? Do you think if I did that this is the life I'd choose? I wasn't cut out for gunfights and gangsters and high speed chases. Maybe in your world I'm evil because of the actions I've committed, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm still alive."

"And what about Cynthia Redding. Did she need to die? What about Alfred? Were they so critical that you had to sacrifice for your survival?" Wayne barked back.

"Maybe, maybe not. But their blood will haunt me to the end. However I'm at least thinking of survival. You don't give a damn about your life."

"Of course I do!"

"No, you don't. Look at you, you preformed dozens dangerous missions on a whim. Your body is a battered wreck."

"My body and life are a small price in order to keep the city safe!"

"Obviously not because you never asked a very basic: why were the streets unsafe in the first place? With your resources you could have provided all those people you deem criminals with an education or a job instead of sending them into an overcrowded and terribly underfunded prison system giving them nothing but bitter resentment. Instead you spend your wealth on body armor and tanks in an effort to protect the sacred image of your precious parents."

"Don't you dare bring _them_ into this!"

He really didn't realize, did he? I walked right up to Wayne. "Are you really so _fucking_ enamored with your ideals that you refuse to see reality?"

"I see reality fine. It is cold and cruel and unfair," Wayne coldly stated. I moved back to my wall.

"Unfair, Wayne? You lost your parents when you were a kid, big. Fucking. Deal. It happens every day all over the world. That's not a tragedy, it's a damn statistic. And then you decide the best reaction is to dress up as a bat and beat up people you deem criminals?"

"You are a criminal, they are criminals. You've all broke the law!"

I shook my head. "And what makes you such an arbiter of justice?" I countered.

"Batman is a symbol. He can make the tough calls. He can endure, be incorruptible," Wayne announced.

"News flash Bats, symbols _can _be corrupted. What if some nut decided to don your cowl and cape and go on a killing spree?"

"I already have."

"No Wayne, you didn't. Everybody has figured it out to some degree. You merely used it as an excuse to go away."

"I...I used it to cover to hide that it was Harvey Dent who committed them."

That caught my attention. I mean talk about a bombshell. "Well then, I guess Hotel Moscow did you all a favor getting rid of the Dent Act early," I mused.

Batman didn't believe my point. "Be realistic, a secret that huge could only stay below the radar for so long. Say in eight years that became public knowledge. Who knows what would happen?" I added. "But back to my original question. Do you think it's your wealth? Do you think that you are just superior to the rest of us and thus capable of being the one to determine justice? What gives you the right?"

We fell silent for a minute. "One final question, Wayne: what did you expect to accomplish on your damn fool idealistic crusade?" I finally asked.

Wayne looked at his feet. "I wanted to create a hero that the people of Gotham could look up to, a symbol in the night to let them know that they were safe. I wanted Gotham back the way it was."

I stood up. "You were fighting a losing battle, Wayne. Anyone who thinks they can fight to regain the past as it was is just delusional. And that delusion has certainly cost you. It started with your parents, Rachel, Dent, and now your butler," I said. I walked to the door.

Wayne just sat there. Probably mulling over

"Good-bye Wayne and good luck," I whispered. I opened the door and walked out. I stuffed my hands into my pockets. I wasn't sure what just happened back there or why it had to happen. My steps echoed around the hold as I made my way topside. Even as my heels clicked, I could still feel Wayne's presence. I turned around, feeling the control I had now over his life. It was all I could think about as I watched his door from afar.

Maybe I could even save him.

We wouldn't get far, sure.

But for all my criticism,

he _was_ a hero.

This wasn't a hero's fate.

Even in such dark times.

And if this world is so dark...

...it still needs such a hero.

Maybe not now.

But one day we will need someone to hold back the...

_Nightfall_

* * *

A/N: Yay, done. Ah...music...hmm...oh!

_Take me high and I'll sing_  
_Oh you make everything okay (okay, okay)_  
_We are one in the same_  
_Oh you take all of the pain away (away, away)_  
_Save me if I become_  
_My demons_

(From the song "My Demons" by Starset, all rights belong to them and their label company)

They were in town earlier this month. I'm kind of sad that I couldn't afford a ticket to go see them. Oh well.

So yeah, this was what I was waiting for. Just Rock and Batman speaking. In this case mostly Rock. I had no intention of a climatic final show down, always a calm and meditative scene.

Rock's sentiments I do actually agree with. But mostly on a meta-textual level. I'm not a total asshole who rejects suspension of disbelief. However I also like reminding people that Bruce Wayne could do way more long term good in Gotham than Batman could.

I loved writing _Nightfall_ and I look forward to writing _Knighthood_. I hope all my fans come back for the continuation.

Extra Special Thanks to demonicDRAMAqueen, who provided excellent feedback and hours of interesting discussion.

Special Thanks to Jo for reminding me why I do this.

Thanks to John and Jouaint for reviewing while it was in progress.

And Thanks to everyone who has read _Nightfall._

Until next time, what did you read upon the Ruined Wall {that now there is a god}

* * *

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A Sneak Peak at: _Operation Dusk Hour: Knighthood..._

The morning fog lifts from a large rural village somewhere in Thailand where the people are in the midst of their morning routines. A white America with dark hair in a black leather jacket with a blue stripe across its chest watches the scene from atop a hill. He plays with a rusting Batarang in his hands. He adjusts his backpack before descending towards the village.

"What is left of us..."

On a wind swept plain in central Asia, a graying man boards a plane filled with American agents. He is missing his right eye.

"...when we are nothing more..."

Lagoon Company headquarters is in its usual mess. A tired Benny is reading a book in the main room when the front door bursts open. Revy enters, clutching a bleeding arm. Her hair is frazzled and far longer, lacking her usual burgundy coloring. Her eyes are bloodshot and weighted down by dark bags.

"...than dust and dirt?"

* * *

The Bluefire Phoenix presents...

A Sneak Peak at: _Project: Life Spark_

"Mikoto Misaka..."

A brown haired girl in a peach girl's uniform bearing the badge of Tokiwadai Middle School walks along the busy streets of Academy City with her book bag in front of her.

"...our third ranked Level 5 esper."

The brown haired girl sees a confused girl with an odd asymmetrical haircut sitting on the ground. The strange girl wears a black uniform.

"Did she come in contact with Lain?"

Mikoto holds out her hand to the strange girl.

"We believe so."

The strange girl takes Mikoto's hand. Strange sparks begin to fly around them.

"Then the wall is already collapsing."


End file.
